Two Little Boys
by HalfASlug
Summary: A story of a friendship built on mutual jealousy, strengthened by a mutual loathing of homework and nearly ruined by faulty badge. It's Harry, Ron and what happened because everywhere else was full.
1. Friends With Hermione

_A/N: Since I wrote Harmony, people have been pointing out that the only trio pairing I haven't written is these two and I always said maybe, if I had some ideas then it could happen. Well, I had some ideas so here it is. This will be more like Harmony than Seven Simple Years (basically not 100+k words) and will not be updated all that regularly. It won't be abandoned though – I do have a plan for each chapter and will see it through. Promise._

_Anyway, without further ado, the brotp of the series._

_Disclaimer: J.K Rowling created the midget and the ginge and if you don't think that would make a great cop show name then you are wrong._

* * *

It was on tired legs that Harry trudged up the stairs to his dormitory that night. The day's events had finally taken a toll on him and he wanted nothing more than to sleep off the food he had consumed and the bruises he had no doubt have acquired. He had heard the older students talking in the past week or so about how spectacular Hogwarts' Halloween feast could be, but he had a feeling that a near-death experience and a troll was not what they were on about. Beside him, Ron was yawning as his longer legs carried him to their door before him.

All the other boys had been talking about how they had definitely built up their leg muscles in the couple of months since they had been living in the castle with its many staircases, but Harry was sure that both he and Ron looked the same. Even with getting decent food portions every day, he was still as scrawny as ever and if anything Ron was even more of a beanpole; anything he had built up had been stretched as he continued to shoot up.

As soon as he had followed Ron into the dormitory, Harry threw himself onto his bed, bouncing slightly and began kicking off his still-soggy trainers. Once they had been flung to some unknown location near his bed, Harry glanced at Ron. Rather than getting undressed, Ron was perched on the end of his bed, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Harry?" Ron asked, slowly looking across at him. "Are we friends with Hermione now?"

"Guess so." Harry shrugged. "She did sit with us all night."

"Yeah, but does that mean we have to sit with her tomorrow?" Ron leant forward and frowned as though he couldn't find the right words. "We saved her so she felt like she _had _to sit with us tonight. Tomorrow is a normal day so it will go back to normal, right?"

Harry thought about this for a moment. For the past few weeks he had spent any occasion he was near Hermione Granger trying to ignore her existence. He had spent most of his time at primary school ignoring Dudley so it wasn't like this was anything new. Unfortunately Hermione was almost impossible to ignore as she had a voice that demanded an audience. Even if he could block out her over-enthusiastic answers to teacher's questions, there was still her infuriating habit of sticking her nose in anything he and Ron seemed to do. Tonight however, he had discovered that she wasn't all that bad when she wasn't trying to impress people or tell him off. In fact she had been pleasant company all evening and had even made a couple of jokes.

"Would it be so bad if she sat with us tomorrow?" Harry sighed as he sat up.

Ron pulled a face of reluctant acceptance. "But is she our friend or just someone who sits with us?"

"What's the difference?" Harry laughed.

"Well," Ron mused, "we're friends, right?"

Even now, nearly two months after meeting Ron, Harry found himself suppressing a smile at being referred to as a friend. "Right."

"We mess about and joke and stuff," continued Ron. "She…" He cast around for a proper way of describing Hermione while scratching his head. "She _reads._"

"So?"

"For fun. She reads for fun," Ron clarified. Suddenly his mouth opened in horror as a thought apparently struck him from nowhere. "What if she starts reading when she is sitting with us and tries to get us to read for fun too?"

While he was sure reading for fun wasn't all _that _weird, Harry started to get a sense of where Ron's misgivings were coming from. They had a steady routine already set and Hermione was a very forceful person. What if she wanted to change everything and screw it all up?

Ron nodded knowingly at the look that must have been on Harry's face. "See. We need to tell her straight up that we aren't going to put up with all that library crap or she will take over."

"So are we letting her sit with us?" Harry questioned. "Or be our friend?"

"I don't know!" exclaimed Ron, dramatically dropping backwards to lie down on his bed. "We have to decide and tell her because if we don't… well… she's a girl. Who knows what she might do?"

"What do you mean?" chuckled Harry. "I'm pretty sure she couldn't do anything too bad to us." Although as soon as Harry had spoken, he knew they had found the real problem here – Hermione was a girl. Girls were different. Being friends with boys was easy, Harry had found. Everyone in his dorm had made friends the moment they had met. On the other hand, Harry had spotted the girls in the Great Hall eyeing each other up before speaking. It was like they had a secret ritual to get through before they could even speak to one another.

Did he and Ron really want to be dealing with that on a daily basis?

"Okay, I don't think she would attack us or anything," Ron eventually reasoned, "but she might cry again. I hate it when they do that."

Harry made a noise of agreement and copied Ron by lying down. As he stared at the canopy above his bed he slowly came to the realisation that they couldn't ignore Hermione tomorrow. She had seemed genuinely happy as she had eaten dinner with them in the common room and he couldn't remember another time she had really looked that way. All too vividly Harry could remember what it was like to spend time at school and at home alone. He couldn't do that to another person.

"We're going to have to be friends with her." He heard Ron gulp. "Aren't we?"

"Yep," Harry replied bracingly.

There was an uncomfortable silence for a few seconds that was eventually broken by Ron's strained voice.

"I don't know how to be friends with a girl!"

"Can't be too hard," Harry said with confidence that he didn't really feel. "Can it?"

Ron didn't appear to have heard him and continued with his own crisis. "I've never been friends with one before! What do you say to them?"

Thinking it probably wouldn't be helpful to point out that he hadn't been friends with anyone before Hogwarts, Harry shrugged. "Wait – don't you have a little sister?" he pointed out. "Don't you talk to her?"

"Ginny?" Ron snorted. "That doesn't count! She's more like a vicious pet than a normal girl!"

"Right." Harry frowned. As far as he could tell, Hermione didn't seem all that normal to him, but he wasn't sure if this was a good thing or not. "There could be benefits to having a girl around."

In the periphery of his vision, Harry saw Ron sit up on his elbows. "Like what?"

"I dunno," Harry admitted. "Well, she could help us work out how other girls think and why they do things."

Ron nodded thoughtfully. "Couldn't hurt having one of them on our side, I suppose," he mused, sitting up properly again. "Plus she's smart. She could do our homework for us!" he added excitedly.

Harry heaved his aching body into a sitting position as well. He was sure he had bruised a rib when he had jumped onto the troll's back. "I don't think she would do it for us, but we could probably get her to help."

"Exactly!" Ron enthused. With energy Harry knew he didn't personally have left, Ron leapt to his feet and began pacing. "She would probably put a stop to us having adventures and stuff, but, if she could get us out of trouble like she did today, I wouldn't mind."

"Really?"

"Well, we can sneak off and have adventures," Ron said dismissively . "She wouldn't need to know."

"So we are friends with her?" Harry asked, following Ron's progress around the circular room with his eyes. "There are no other negatives we can think of?"

His face screwed up in thought, Ron ceased pacing and folded his long arms. Just as Harry thought they would had reached a decision and he could finally get some sleep, Ron's jaw dropped and his entire face paled.

"What?"

Shaking his head, Ron closed his eyes and staggered to his bed. His knees gave out and he sat down heavily, staring at Harry with a look of abject horror. Undeniably unnerved, Harry reached forward and gripped Ron's shoulder. The contact seemed to bring Ron back to his senses.

"What if," he whispered shakily, "she talks to us about… _monthly stuff._"

"'Monthly stuff'?" Harry frowned. "What do you mean 'month- _oh_."

Unable to contemplate such a conversation, the boys gawped at each other, arguable more scared and disgusted than they had been at any point during their brawl with the mountain troll.

"She wouldn't," Harry stated weakly.

"She might," countered Ron with a grimace.

"Does Ginny?"

Ron gagged.

"Sorry. I-I just never really had to think about this before," explained Harry.

"Well, don't think about my sister!" fired back Ron.

Harry shrank away from his friend, unsure of what to say. As soon as he had, Ron's face melted back into one of resignation again.

"Didn't mean to shout. Sorry. I just… _this_, y'know?" he said emphatically.

"Yeah."

Silence fell again and Harry didn't know what to say. They would be spending at least the next seven years with Hermione so they had to take it all into account. Yes, she was nice now, albeit a bit highly-strung, but what about when she was a teenager? Teenage girls were a whole other matter. They might be able to put up with her now, but she could become a nightmare at fifteen. She would start wearing make-up and giggling and talking about boys-

"Ron, what if she starts fancying us?"

"What?" If Ron had been pale before, it was nothing compared to now. "I hadn't even thought of that! Oh no! What if _you_ start fancying _her_?"

"_Me_?" cried Harry. "What about you?"

Ron snorted. "I'm not going to start fancying her!"

"You might!" argued Harry.

For some reason they were both breathing heavily. This whole being friends with a girl was more than Harry could possibly have imagined. In fact he was almost beginning to wish that they had left her to the troll. She was smart enough; she could have saved herself. Somehow.

"I think I have a plan," Ron said decisively. His lips were pressed together and his brow furrowed. He was serious. "We play it by ear. Tomorrow, when we go downstairs, if she is waiting for us, then we go down to breakfast together. Then, if she follows us after breakfast, we talk to her. And so on. The moment she starts getting weird and girly, we get out and save ourselves."

Harry thought over the plan. He couldn't see a problem with it, really. At least he would get some help with his Transfiguration homework before they had to make nay kind of getaway.

"Okay," he nodded. "We'll do that." He held his hand out and Ron shook it with a grin. Once they had let go, Harry pulled his robes off and retrieved his pyjamas from his drawers. Across the room, Ron laughed.

"I mean, she's already had us fighting a troll," he chuckled, dropping his jumper onto the end of his bed. "What's the worst that could happen?"

* * *

_A/N 2: If you have never read any of my other fics then this won't make any sense so just continue with your day._

_Couple of things - in the latest Sunday chapter some people thought it was mean of Hermione to leave Ron. Just so you don't all call a rescue party for him, she did go back about 10 mins later to set him free and when she got there he was already asleep again. Also a couple of people have expressed their disgust over Morning After and in case you are one of those people and don't follow me on tumblr, I explained what happened in that fic here if you delete the spaces and change all the 'dot's to '.' : curiositykilledtheslug dot tumblr dot com search/morning+after _

_I am sorry if anything in either of those chapters offended anyone. That really isn't my intention with anything. Although if you are offended or plain just don't like something I write then please tell me, and if you can, not as a guest. I'm still going to thank you for taking the time to review my fic, be polite and do my best to explain myself. One of the disgusted Morning After guest reviews was really lovely and I was gutted that I couldn't message them and explain. Another was uber sarcastic and I loved that as well. So yeah, don't be shy. Send me lovely, lovely hate. _


	2. Between a Rock and a Hard Place

_A/N: Hola! I've not even begun replying to the reviews of my last update and other stuff and normally I don't like putting anything on here until that's done but this is happening and I haven't forgotten and I will do it just not yet, okay?_

_And breathe. _

_And chapter._

_Disclaimer: J.K Rowling, Rowling, Rowling, Rowling owns Harry Potter so what you gonna do now?_

* * *

Thirty three.

There were thirty three individual panes of glass in the window to Ron's left. This meant it had the second highest number of panes of glass out of all the windows in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. The winner went to the huge window behind Lockhart's desk that had forty-six and let in enough light that it gave the illusion that the Professor had unearthly glow surrounding him while he was sat at the front of the class. The unfortunate loser was the tiny window above the stock cupboard at the back of the room that only had a measly two panes. Ron had a feeling if he had been a window he would be that one; a small one that served no real purpose and no one noticed.

What this in-depth study into the windows of Hogwarts concluded was that Ron Weasley was severely bored.

"Of course, Miss Granger was the only one of you that bothered to add the detail about my allergy to non-organic cotton," Lockhart continued to tell the class, unaware that the youngest Weasley boy had no idea what he was talking about. "With an eye for detail like that, why, you could make me an excellent assistant one day, Miss Granger!"

Lockhart strutted to the front of Hermione's desk and winked at her. Even from his position at the back, Ron saw her shiver. It turned his stomach. For what felt like the fifth time this lesson he was infinitely grateful that Hermione always sat apart from him and Harry in this lesson. If he had been any closer he would probably get sun burn from her blushing cheeks. It was pathetic, the way all the girls in school behaved around the moron.

"So," Lockhart boomed, moving back to the front and centre, "I'm sure you've all been wondering about the subject of today's lesson? Well, wonder no more, as today we will be reliving the-"

Lockhart was interrupted by a knock on the classroom door and Ron decided he was forever indebted to whoever had been the cause of it.

"Come in," Lockhart called, not moving from his wide-legged stance.

Slowly, the door was pushed open to reveal a fifth-year Ravenclaw with a scroll in her hand. She glanced briefly at the class before throwing her dark hair over her shoulder and approaching Lockhart.

Ron couldn't help it; his jaw dropped.

He had seen her in the Great Hall and around the castle before, but this had to be the closest he had ever been. All those times he had admired the way she walked and smiled and breathed, but being this much closer showed him that he hadn't really _seen_ her before. There was a grace about her that none of the other girls at Hogwarts could hope to recreate. When she smiled, it felt like time stopped for a moment just so everyone could witness the miracle, because no one should be without the knowledge that such beauty existed.

"Holy shit," Seamus groaned from the table on Ron's left. "It's Tits McGee."

And there was that as well.

It didn't matter to Ron what purpose had brought her into the room; all that mattered was that it kept her here for as long as possible. Unfortunately all she had to do was deliver the message from Professor Sprout and leave them again. So, after just a few short seconds in the room, the girl was walking back to the door much too quickly for Ron's liking.

It wasn't fair, that she could just walk in and out of his life like this. All he wanted was a solid few minutes to stare at her, possibly even a photograph to keep under his pillow, but all he ever got were these stolen glances. She was just feet from the door as Ron nervously licked his lips. What he wouldn't give for her to turn around and see him… his broomstick… his chess set… He'd happily give up his legs if she smiled at him. It wasn't too much to ask, was it? A smile? It's not like it would cost her anything.

And then, as the perfect hand at the end of her perfect arm grasped the doorknob, she turned, gave the class one last sweeping look and it happened.

For a split second, maybe a bit more, she was looking directly at him.

Ron's brain screamed at him to smile casually or save someone from a burning building or propose or _anything, _but before he even had chance to close his mouth, her eyes had fell on the boy sat on his right and had done a double take.

His insides roaring with jealousy, Ron frowned at Harry, who looked as slack-jawed as he probably had done. The girl gave Harry a quick smile and left the classroom a much duller shade than it had been when she was inside it. Ron heard Harry swallow what sounded a bit like a large rock and turned to back to the front.

"Righto," Lockhart boomed as though nothing of importance had just happened. "Where was I? Oh, yes," he remembered, his voice turning into an infuriating stage whisper. "The Bandon Banshee."

Not giving a shit about anything Lockhart could possibly say, Ron dropped his head onto his fist and scowled. Just because he was famous and brave and good at Quidditch and_ famous_ Harry always had the older girls smiling at him. Ron didn't care if all the other girls smiled at him, but couldn't he at least have _that_ girl look at him? Just once?

It wasn't like Harry was a heartthrob or anything, Ron thought sullenly, inspecting Harry out of the corner of his eyes. His hair was always a mess, but maybe they though that looked cool? His glasses were definitely _not _cool. He hadn't got any stubble or muscles. In fact he was probably the only boy at the school scrawnier that he was. And he was short. And he walked weirdly. And he had that annoying habit where he did that thing. And he was holding a book over his crotch. And he had those stupid-

_Book over his crotch?_

"Oi, leave it out," Harry hissed at him. Ron met Harry's eyes and grinned.

"Lockhart does look nice in sky blue," he said seriously, "but I wouldn't go _that_ far."

Colour flooded Harry's cheeks. "Shut up. You know it's her."

Ron frowned thoughtfully before shaking his head. "Who? You've been staring at Lockhart this whole time, mate."

"Fuck off," Harry growled, punching Ron in the leg.

"Now, now," Ron said, failing to stop himself from laughing, "what you're going through is perfectly natural-"

"If you don't shut up-"

"Your body is going through a lot of changes-"

"I'll change you face if you don't-"

"And it is completely normal to have urges-"

Harry gave up on verbal threats and hit Ron with his book. Ron responded by aiming a punch at Harry's crotch that was skilfully blocked. It wasn't long before both of them were aiming to silently mutilate each other in blur of violence and whispered threats.

"Harry!" came Lockhart's voice from nowhere, causing Ron to drop the quill he had been using to try and draw on Harry's face. "I see you're excited about this part of the tale!"

On the front row, Ron noticed Hermione glaring at the two of them. She must have known what they were doing and was probably going to give them a bollocking over lunch because of it.

"I- er – of course I am, Professor," Harry stammered.

"Right then, if you'd like to come to front and play the part of the banshee." Going by the tone of Lockhart's voice you would have been forgiven for believing that he had just offered Harry a year's supply of chocolate, rather than a very humiliating experience.

Normally Ron felt sorry for his best mate, but this meant that he obviously won their little battle so this time he smirked. Instead of doing what he usually did, which was wish Lockhart nothing but pain with his eyes as he made his way to the front, Harry paled quicker than Ron had ever seen. It was then Ron remembered.

Having to be a part of Lockhart's re-enactments was humiliating. Having to be a part of Lockhart's re-enactments in Harry's current situation would be enough to make any boy ask for transfer to a school in Mexico.

"I – um - why – maybe-"

"Harry can't do it, Professor," Ron blurted out.

The whole room turned to stare at the two of them sitting unnaturally straight at the back. Hermione frowned slightly as if trying to work out what was going on. Ron hoped for Harry's sake she got it wrong, but there were more important things on his mind at the minute.

Lockhart blinked and turned back to Harry as though Ron hadn't spoken. "Is there something wrong, Harry?"

"Erm…"

"He's – er – hurt his ankle, sir," Ron supplied again. He chanced a glance at Harry. While still pale, he looked capable of speech now.

"Yeah, it's my ankle, Professor," Harry lied with his usual cool. "On the way here I slipped coming up the stairs. I don't think it's serious, but I probably shouldn't risk it."

Hermione shot Ron a questioning look that he ignored. They hadn't been on any stairs on their way to the classroom.

"Oh, I'm sure it won't hurt," chuckled Lockhart to Ron and Harry's horror. "I promise to go easier on you than I did on the real banshee." He looked around the class as though expecting them to laugh at his joke and didn't seem at all perturbed when none of them did.

"Oh, well, b-but," Harry spluttered, once again too horrified to think of a good enough excuse. Normally he could think of a lie in the tightest of situations, but this time Ron knew he wouldn't be capable.

Knowing that he was going to regret what he was about to do but that Harry would probably do the same for him, Ron swallowed his apprehension and cut across his best friend.

"The thing is, Professor," he said with a slight croak, "I-I want to do it."

The reaction was palpable. Dean gasped and began to choke, forcing Seamus to thump him on the back. Lavender miss-threw the note she was passing to Parvati, hitting Neville in the face instead. Hermione looked as though she was going to drag both of them outside the classroom by their ears and perform her own interrogation. The only person that seemed unfazed by Ron's statement was Lockhart, who merely smiled widely.

"Really, Mr Weasley?" he asked, sounding delighted.

"Um, yeah," Ron nodded, trying to muster up some enthusiasm when all he wanted to do was beat himself over the head with a book. "It's my favourite of your books actually. I don't go anywhere without my copy of _Banter with-_"

"_Break with,_" Harry muttered.

"_Break with a Banshee. _I just… really… like it," Ron finished lamely.

He kept eye contact with Lockhart and hoped that he didn't realise that Ron hadn't even opened his copy before that lesson. And even then it had only been to scribble a note to Harry in it.

"Well, well, well, Mr Weasley," cried Lockhart jubilantly, "today is your lucky day! Get on up here!"

Even though every fibre of his being was telling him that he would be better off taking on the Cornish Pixies alone and wandless, Ron stood up and walked as slowly as he could get away with towards his teacher. Once there he turned and looked at the still stunned faces of his classmates and found himself half-hoping for another muggleborn attack or anything that would get him out of this lesson. Eventually his eyes found Harry, who mouthed "_I owe you_", looking as though Ron had just taken a curse for him.

Ron waited until Lockhart went to fetch his banshee wig for him to wear before he silently replied, "_big time_" with as much venom as he could muster while feeling sick. Harry gulped as Ron saw the revolting wig he was about to put on and came to the conclusion that this act of self-sacrifice could only be repaid with either Harry giving him his Nimbus or saving his or a member of his family's life.

Or possibly finding out that Ravenclaw girl's name.

_Yeah_, Ron thought, attempting to smile at rather than punch Lockhart, _something big like that._


End file.
